Rooftop Conversation AU or Canon: AU (slightly) Location: Chicago Date: 2014 Notes: Takes place after the close of CL, but discounts Rhiannon's 2nd epilogue.
"I picked this up on the way home."
Rhiannon sat cross-legged on the roof of her apartment building. At ten to midnight, she had already come in from patrol, but hadn't showered yet. A layer of vampire dust stuck to her jeans and hoody, but she didn't pay any attention to it, beyond a quick attempt to brush it off. Screw it. The stuff was probably a permanent part of her DNA. She put the handle of vodka between her legs and opened the cap. "This is the absolute height of class, by the way." She poured a finger into a disposable cup and passed the bottle to Purity. "Have at it."
Alongside her, an empty beer bottle rested on its side. She set her palm on it. Rhiannon rolled it back and forth, listening to the gritty sound of glass rubbing against tarred roof. There was a bite in the air, but if they hunkered low, the little wall around the roof blocked the wind. It was too pretty to be cooped up. Light pollution hid the stars, but the air was dry and crisp. The moon looked swollen.
Chilled air brushed across her shirt, rippling it, yet it didn't really touch her. Almost as if it was just passing on by. Shoulders shifted as Purity turned to glance at her friend, the material of her shirt scrapping against the bricks at her back. Snorting, she took the bottle, the witch's free hand blindly grasping for her own disposable cup.
"You know secretly that's true. At least we enjoy ourselves." Fingers plucked up the plastic cup, careful not to bend it as she leaned over to slosh a little of the clear liquid inside. With the bottle between her feet, Purity screwed the cap back on and sat it between them. Lifting her cup up, she tapped it against Rhiannon's, "You were right, it is a nice night." She grinned slightly, "Another outfit ruined?"
Rhiannon snorted. "Who has outfits?"
She knocked back the vodka and wiped a drop off her chin. Her face screwed up into distaste. "Jesus H. I must've gotten spoiled. What brand is this, anyway?" She took the bottle back from her friend and read it. "Yeah this is bad. But I only had couple of bills in my pocket." Oh, well. The good thing was that vodka had a way of numbing her tongue after a while. Either that, or she ceased to care after a few.
The cup had been raised to her own mouth when Rhiannon said that, and Purity laughed, until she actually tasted it herself. Gagging slightly, the witch coughed and forced the rest over before she had time to get over the first mouthful. Using her fist to hit her upper chest once or twice, she finally let a deep breath out. "Are you sure this isn't paint stripper? If I'm not blind in the morning I'll give you five bucks. If I am you're left taking care of me."
One hand lifted to rub over her face, the crisp air making her lungs blaze with every breath she took. Leaning forward, Purity clasped her hands at the back of her neck and let her forehead rest against her knees. Just until she was sure her stomach wasn't going to make a fuss.
Rhiannon drank until she got to the bottom of her cup, and then she rested her head against the brick wall. The breeze brushed her forehead and cheeks, taking pieces of dark brown hair with it. She closed her eyes. "Thank god you're not a snob."
Placing her cheek against her leg, Purity let her gaze land on her friend, "I wouldn't last one minute as a snob. Could you imagine?" She sat up straighter and lifted her empty cup, "Why Rhiannon, I dare say you picked a delectable bottle with a peculiar taste, fabulous." Making a face, the witch put the empty cup back down with a scrape against the ground.
Getting into the spirit of things, Rhiannon pretended to inspect the jewelry on her fingers, wiggling them beneath the tip of her upturned nose. "Charmed, I'm sure!" Which she knew, from classic novels and old films, was the wrong context in which to use such a phrase, but it was the first one out of her mouth. She let her arm flop into her lap and looked at Purity. "What the hell does that mean, anyway? Charmed, I'm sure. I'm sure I'm charming? I'm sure you are? Either way, it makes you sound like a total bastard."
The witch snorted, her slender fingers raking through her dark hair absently. "I always thought it meant..." She paused, frowning slightly as she tried to remember. "When you meet someone for the first time, you're saying you're charmed to meet them, and expect they feel the same to meet you?" Purity's lanky frame moved as she shrugged, only to rest against the wall again. Wrists folded across her stomach, while fingers toyed with the hem of her shirt and imaginary pieces of fluff. "Does make you sound like a twat though, it's like a foreign language."
Rhiannon pulled her sleeves over her hands and stared at the opposite wall. One of the Slayer's knees straightened out. "I should've gotten Bailey's and dumped it in hot chocolate," she said.
Using her elbow, the witch nudged Rhiannon's arm, "We can save that for another nice night, just uh, remember to remember it." That made sense to her.
Rhiannon chuckled and put a hand over her eyes. "God. Why is the word 'twat' so hilarious?" She didn't expect an answer. It was just one of those mysteries of letters fitting together in one-syllable words. "It's funny how some of the worst insults involve parts of the body I'm rather fond of. Like calling some guy a dick. That ought to mean he's the best thing ever."
The witch grinned and let the back of her head fall back on the brick wall lightly. She took a deep breath, for no other reason than relishing the frost in the air, "See when someone calls a girl a twat, or a guy a dick, I literally just picture them as that. As much as I like some of the body parts, a six foot vagina is not okay with me."
"Whereas a six foot dick..." Rhiannon trailed off, but from the look on her face, it was a positive mental image.
Purity cringed at the look on the Slayer's face, rather happy that she trailed off and didn't finish that sentence.
Rhiannon scratched her upper arm and noticed it hurt, as if a bruise was forming deep in the bicep. "Ow." Rhiannon pulled it across her chest and found a gash in the sleeve of her hoody. No real surprise there. "Damn it. I need to start wearing your clothes on patrol."
Though Purity suddenly snorted and shook her head, "Does that mean I get to wear your clothes when you borrow mine?" A dark eyebrow was quirked and she gave the Slayer an amused look, "You might get them back in a worse state." Which wasn't true at all, but she enjoyed winding the woman up. "Your arm okay?" Now she was serious.
The Slayer held onto the cuff of her sleeve and withdrew her arm from it. She inspected the injury, flexing her arm to check range of motion. It was a deep cut but already closed. "Yeah, it'll be alright. This vampire hadn't gotten a manicure in decades. Thank God she didn't go for my neck. I would've been leaking like a sieve." She shivered and put the sweatshirt back on.
Clearing her throat, green eyes narrowed as Purity peered over to look at that already healing wound. A small hiss of breath being sucked through her teeth, "Fucking vampires." It was safe to say that her opinion had changed ever since Victoria had hospitalised her. "You know if you ever want company I'm more than willing to tag along." The witch wiggled her fingers at Rhiannon, "I have my own skills."
"I need to call Deanna. She gave me the tip." Rhiannon picked up the bottle and studied her fingers through the distortion of glass and liquid. "It is beyond weird getting calls from her. I still hate her guts. What gives it away is the irresistible urge I get to put a fist through the phone. But how are you gonna hang up on that? It's my own fucking fault she's walking around."
The mention of Deanna left a bemused look on Purity's face, and for a moment she didn't say anything. Sniffing instead, while she picked at her shirt again. "Look on the bright side, there's always the possibility of dusting her later." Fingers scratched at the side of her knee, the material grating against her short nails. "What's the deal with her anyway? I thought she hated you, why does she bother calling it's not like you're her little puppet to go take care of her kind."
"I can't stake her now." Rhiannon gathered her knees to her chest. She draped her arms across them and desperately wished that a cigarette dangled from her fingers. Why she had decided to quit was, at times, beyond her comprehension. "You know how I brought her back, right? That stupid 'anything your heart desires' deal this summer? Thank you, Powers That Be, for revealing my dirty little secret to the world. I actually missed her after I staked her. Anyway." Rhiannon twisted a ring around her thumb. "My wish gave her a second go, and apparently Deanna's wish was to get her soul back or something, which I frankly find hard to believe, but whatever. Who am I to use the word 'unlikely'?"
"I guess stranger things have happened, literally." The witch rubbed her face then let her legs stretch out, hands finding a home on her lap. Absently her fingers tapped out a beat that existed in her head. "It's normal to miss people. What's that saying again?" She frowned, and snapped her fingers a few times to jog her memory, "There's a fine line between love and hate. Not that I'm saying there's any love there, but the hate was a connection, and over the years I guess it just became natural for her to somehow be in your life." Purity shrugged lightly, giving the Slayer a soft look. "Sometimes we need people like that in our life to push us to be our best." If Deanna did one thing for her friend, it was certainly keeping her on her toes.
"Yeah. There was a great, big, gaping hole in my life," Rhiannon mused. "I'd wake up some days and think to myself, gee... I really liked being electrocuted and chained up in warehouses. Goddamn, I miss that bitch." She held her serious face for about three seconds, and then plucked Purity's head. Of course, there was truth to the witch's opinion. Rhiannon operated best when she had an enemy to match her. In less than a month, she lost Deanna and Elfleda, and warriors without wars to fight went bat shit.
Purity didn't look quite as serious as she snorted, a stupid grin on her lips, "Sounds like a wild night." Though she did tilt her head and fix Rhiannon with a look, "You like a challenge, there's nothing wrong with that." Again she shrugged lightly, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. One hand lifted to smack at the Slayer's, then dropped to find her shoulder, with a gentle push she took her hand back.
"Still waiting on the replacement foe," Rhiannon added. "God, I'd hate to think nobody out there considers me a threat. Am I washed up? Maybe I need to stage some kind of public demonstration. You wanna fake-fight me on camera?"
"I thought you'd never ask." Eyebrows were lifted then, and she half turned, one knee dropping to the floor as she lifted her hands up like a boxer. "Give it your best shot, Slayer, this witch is ready." Sure she was teasing but there was a hint of seriousness there that meant she probably would if Rhiannon thought it was a good idea. After a few beers and a shot of vodka though? The witch wouldn't be able to fight her way out of a paper bag.
Slumped against the wall with a liquor bottle and a ripped up sweatshirt, Rhiannon looked more like a homeless person than a Chosen One. She eyed Purity. Ignored her friend's fists and shoved on her upraised knee instead, trying to knock her off-balance. "No way. We need a camera man. And maybe a pool full of mud." Her mouth quirked at the corners. The idea of thrashing around in mud with the other woman was comical.
"You would actually mud wrestle me?" The witch placed her hand against her chest and let out a sigh, mischief sparkling in her eyes. "Be still my beating heart." Though the hand on her knee made her wobble and she suddenly sat up properly, crossing her ankles to keep herself steady.
"Heeeey..." Rhiannon's eyes lit up. She snapped her fingers. "I bet Connor would film it for us. Especially if you did some kind of spell that put us in slow motion." Taking the bottle by the neck, she poured each of them another drink. Her ears were cold, so she raised the hood over her hair. "You could invite that chick you're always hanging out with."
Swirling the clear liquid in the plastic cup, Purity felt the corners of her mouth twitch slightly into a smile, "Who, Celena? I wonder what her reaction would be if I asked her to come spectate. She could be the referee." While the thought tickled her, she shook her head and looked up at the sky. There weren't many stars that she could see, but what was there glinted and twinkled, reminding her that there was a little magic in everything. "We could make posters and charge people to get in, or it could be a new way to find you a foe." She laughed then, and deepened her voice just to state, "Slayer and Vampire fight it out in this battle of strength and mud. This Halloween, we bring you extreme Slayer Wrestling."
As an afterthought, she let her head roll against the brick wall to look at Rhiannon, "We need costumes."
"Oh, absolutely." Rhiannon frowned and inspected the contents of her red Solo cup. The vodka looked so innocuous, like water. She took the shot and waited while it scorched a fiery path down her throat. When she began again, her voice was tight. "Ho, that smarts." She sniffed and let her eyes refocus. "So. I've decided on a black corset, tiny panties with garters, and thigh-high boots. All of it leather. I'd look like I meant serious business, right? With absolutely no designs on chucking it all and auctioning myself to the sexiest bidder."
She turned around and faced Purity. Then she laid back on the roof, feet propping on top of the wall. "What about you? Just promise me, whatever you come up with, it has a crotch in it."
Purity could feel her neck slowly burning because while she didn't mean to envision it, she was, and she turned away from Rhiannon to suddenly throw her head back and swallow that vile shot of vodka. The witch gagged slightly, and brought her hand up to cover her mouth until she could breathe again. "Fucking hell." There was a reason people called liquor poison.
Though that comment fired her way had Purity reaching out to slap Rhiannon's thigh sharply. "My crotch is not going on display for love nor money, you cheeky bitch." She was grinning. Bringing her hands up, she clasped them at the back of her head and gazed into space. "I don't know, maybe some kind of hot pants and boots with a tight shirt, I could be the Lara Croft of witches." Then she brought her hands back down just to pretend they were guns, index fingers pointing at the Slayer before she laughed. "Scratch that, I'll dress as a ninja."
Rhiannon lifted her head off the roof. "It's mudwrestling. I'm not gonna be the only skank out there in lingerie. Get real." She nudged Purity with her knee. A bit of undead dust rubbed off on the witch's shirt, but she wasn't in a big hurry to lend a hand. Resting again, she curled an arm behind her head.
"I don't exactly own that kind of lingerie. Fine, some skankadelic bikini in rainbow, I draw the line at boots, I'll go bare foot." Purity tried to huff but really, she was enjoying herself too much to pull it off. Which was why she looked at the vampire dust on her shirt and just left it there. She could wash it later, screw getting her hands dirty because of it. After all, she didn't know who it was.
"Are you gonna tell me about Celena, or should I just wait and be surprised when I get home early one day?" Since Rhiannon didn't have a cigarette to light up, she wrapped a drawstring around her finger and cinched her hoody tight.
There it was again, that flicker of a smile as the red head was mentioned. The witch shrugged lightly, "She's fiery, and a short ass, five foot nothing. Complete opposite of me in her dress sense, the heels she can wear scare me shitless." Five inch spikes of death came to mind. "She owns that club, Decay." A sly glance was given to Rhiannon, "You know, since you wake up and realise you miss being chained up, you should check it out." It was strange to say that out loud, it wasn't her lifestyle, although... Celena had a way of making things entirely too tempting to at least try. Baby steps and all that.
"Excuse me?" Rhiannon's eyebrows lifted. The query sounded derisive, but the corners of her mouth quirked. "Purity! You got yourself a dominatrix? Wow." Reaching for the empty cup, she balanced it on her forehead and continued to stare at the sky. The moon glowed just to the right of it, so that the cup seemed monstrous in scale. "Never say never," she said. "So are you two... friends or friends?"
Purity snorted and rolled her eyes, only to hunker further down the wall and bring her knees back up to drape her arms over. "Purely by accident, I didn't know who the hell she was when I first saw her." The witch grinned at the memory, "She was watching the same display as I was, and then all of a sudden people recognized her and I couldn't resist prodding her verbally." Thinking about it now though, she was glad she did, otherwise she probably wouldn't have ever gone back to Decay.
Stretching out, the witch flicked the plastic cup off of Rhiannon's head, it landed somewhere with a light click. Then she wobbled her hand with a funny look on her face. Shit, was she blushing? "We're not, you know, 'buddies' because we've never..." The witch shrugged and looked slightly awkward. Usually if she liked someone, and they liked her? Well, the maths wasn't hard. "I like her, there's no... Rush."
"So grateful you clarified it was a verbal prod." Rhiannon put her palms on either side of her head and did a backwards roll. She landed on her haunches and went after the cup, which was blowing across the roof. "Ugh." She picked it up and inspected the rim. "Well, if any germs got on this, I'm confident the piss we're drinking would kill them on contact." She wiped the inside of her shirttail along the rim anyway and returned to stand next to Purity.
"By the way, completely agreed on the not rushing. Especially if you plan to let her put you in restraints." Rhiannon smiled to herself. "Maybe you should check for a criminal record first. Not that many of our friends would pass a background check. Wait." She bit her tongue and looked at the sky. "Would any of them?"
"Don't say piss." The tone was dry and the witch rubbed her face with both hands, mumbling against her palms, "You bought it, by default it makes it your piss." Then she laughed slightly, and let her fingers scratch at her scalp, "Mind you, if it had an alcohol content of over thirty I might be tempted, providing there was no way of getting to a store."
Purity tilted her head back to look up at Rhiannon, her hands dangling over her knees. "I'm not sure I'm ready for restraints." It was said as a joke, but it was true none the less. Bringing one hand up, she chewed at the corner of her nail for a few seconds. "Have you ever just met someone who has taken you by surprise? Even though you don't know what the outcome of it all will be, you just feel... Compelled, to see where it goes anyway?" The witch rubbed the back of her neck, "I can't believe I just said that, no good can come of this."
"I get what you mean," Rhiannon said. "That's kind of how I operate with the bad guys." She put her foot on an old, rotting cigarette butt and ground the filter. Smoothing a lock of hair behind her ear, she added, "With me and men, though? It usually develops out of friendship first. Then all the sudden, we look at each other and decide to fall down the rabbit hole." She looked up and her eyes focused on the horizon, in the direction of a neighborhood not too far from where they lived. "I need a crash helmet."
Rhiannon dismissed it easily enough. "Then again, I'm an adrenaline junkie. That's how I like it. If it doesn't knock me on my ass, it's not worth doing."
Purity found herself nodding, though she stopped to snort at the crash helmet remark. "Okay Daredevil." Sniffing, the witch rubbed the back of her hand across her nose then stood up. Groaning slightly as she stretched and clicked her back. "I don't think the cold weather likes me as much as I like it." Christ, she was still young, but sometimes she felt like old age was just knocking on her door.
Turning to lean slightly on that wall, the witch took a moment to just look around. Chicago at night was so different from Las Vegas, but every now and then she pined for Nevada. Wide open space filled with virtually nothing and nobody.
"I think I'm falling down the rabbit hole." Her tone seemed a little strained, and Purity chewed her lip for a second or two. "It's surreal, being around her, like the air thickens but I can breathe better. My stomach does strange things." She shrugged lightly, as if that helped, "She's from that snob end of the spectrum, completely spoiled like butter wouldn't melt but..." Purity's hands came up and she laughed, letting her head fall back so she could gaze at that glowing moon with another groan.
Rhiannon tipped her chin down. "You're seeing a girl who would judge my cheap vodka... Aren't you." She tsked and crammed her fists in her pockets.
"She'd judge my cheap beer too, but I bet I could get her to try it." The grin Purity flashed was cheeky.
"I guess chemistry's chemistry." A dirty smile came over Rhiannon. "You can't help who you looooove." Quickly, she bent down to pick up the bottle, which obscured the grin on her face. She couldn't make up her mind if she wanted to take another shot or not. She felt loose, which was a blessing lately, when it felt like her nerves were strung tight as the strings on a violin. Deciding to hell with it, she drank out of the neck of the bottle. Little bubbles rose and gurgled inside it. With a sour face, she broke her mouth away and coughed.
Purity's grin faltered as those teasing words hit her. The quick breath she took only caused her to choke slightly on her own saliva, and she bent over to cough. "I never...!" Wheeze. "Said that, I just, I mean she's, and the chemistry is..." There was a strange, happy little noise that gargled at the back of her throat before she shook herself and snapped out of it. Only to thump Rhiannon on the arm and steal the bottle to take a swig of it herself. The liquid chinked inside the bottle from the sharp movement, and she looked disgusted once she swallowed. "Can I make this better, or are we seeing how much we can drink before puking from the taste alone?"
Rhiannon stared. "You can make it better and we've been drinking it for how long?" She shook her head. "God. Here. Masochist." She passed the bottle to her magically-inclined friend, who was apparently a bit of an alchemist, too. "Work wonders." The cold air made her nose feel like it was running. She sniffed and bounced on her toes. At least her insides were warm.
While Purity did her thing, she pivoted and checked out the view in the other direction. Sometimes it was hard to believe they'd been in Chicago less than a year and a half. It felt like longer since she'd looked out from a rooftop and seen nothing for miles except pale dirt, rock, and cacti. Lately, a weird itch had gotten under her skin. As many terrible things as happened in Nevada, part of her wanted to go back and have a look around. She guessed she was testing herself. Like she'd know how far she'd come if she could go back and still feel centered. After she left Detroit, she went back once to visit her parents' graves. That was about a year later, too. Cyclical distance.
"You're not gonna blow yourself up, are you?" Rhiannon smiled at her friend.
Taking the bottle, the witch took a breath to try and ground herself. Or at least sober up enough to concentrate on what the hell she was doing. You see it had nothing to do with alchemy, and everything to do with swapping the contents of this bottle, with one in the local store. She just had to visualise it, and actually remember a brand name. "No!" She huffed loudly, "Hahaha...Masochist might be right, who'd have thought." It was muttered in a dry tone, and she closed her eyes. It may have taken her a minute or two longer than she would like to admit, but little blue and purple tendrils sparked between her fingers for a few seconds, then were gone. Which could mean great news for them, and bad luck for some unhappy customer.
"Here, try this." Purity thrust the bottle back to her friend with a small grin. "Before you ask, because you're a Slayer, and I am a mere mortal."
"Aaah!" Rhiannon gave her an outraged look. "How is that fair?" But laughing, she took the bottle anyway, because yes, she was more likely to survive if Purity poisoned her senseless. Also, the witch might know how to reverse it. Maybe. "Here goes nothing." She put her mouth to the bottle, then gave the contents another look, just to make sure they hadn't been turned into actual urine. Cloudless and clear. Rhiannon took a sip and swished it around in her mouth. "Well, what do you know, it isn't terrible." She grinned and passed it back. "I just hope I don't go into convulsions. I've got important things to do with my life. I'm a shining star."
"Don't worry, I'll call an ambulance, but by the time they get here I'll have probably drank the rest in sheer desperation." Purity gave her friend two thumbs up as she swigged from the bottle. The temptation to turn it into still water or something ridiculous had been there, but she realised she'd rather the vodka than the potential black eye if Rhiannon got a mouthful of salt water.
Taking the bottle back, the witch gave the Slayer a curious look just to make sure she wasn't about to faint or something, then took a sip. It went down a little easier but still burned like a motherfucker as it sloshed down into her stomach. "You should become one of those eccentric artists, use vamp dust or something and sell it to insufferable rich people."
"You want me to take a dustpan and a little jar on patrol?" Rhiannon lifted an eyebrow. "Nnnnnnnah, I don't think so." The idea of it made her smirk, though. "I bet you could package vamp dust and sell it to seriously gullible people as an anti-aging dietary supplement." She chewed her lip and tapped her shoe against the roof, thinking about her art and the odd directions it took her. "Maybe I could collect demon horns and stick 'em on something completely tacky. Like... belt buckles," she joked.
Purity tried to picture her friend chasing after dust that was blowing away in the wind, it was funny but she knew it would never happen. Though the horns comment got her laughing. "I bet people would actually buy those. You know, big men, real men, men who talk loud, men who can barely read." The witch was waving her hand around before she brought it to her face and rubbed her cheek.
"Oh! I forgot to tell you." Rhiannon got a wicked look. "I just finished the third chapter in a comic series I'm doing online about, ahem, our beloved 'Destroyer'. He's going to kill me, but I couldn't resist... I drew him in tights."
Quirking a dark eyebrow at Rhiannon, Purity waited with a bemused smile to find out what the Slayer had done to their friend in comic form. When the words hit her she almost choked with laughter. "You're kidding, does he have a band of merry men behind him?"
Rhiannon rubbed her eyebrow. "No, but that's an idea." The smile wouldn't go away, so she decided to explain herself. "It's only for one panel. A secondary character's imagining what Connor looks like when he's hunting demons, and they picture him wearing this... spandex get-up. There's a giant 'D' on the front, and he's got this sweatband around his forehead. I never would've done it, except when I proposed the idea of the series to Connor, he said it was okay on one condition. No tights."
Rhiannon shook her head. "Dumbass. He never shoulda mentioned it."
"He handed it to you on a silver plate." Purity shook her head, clearly amused that Conner never considered the fact that Rhiannon would use it against him. "You could always offer to make him a Halloween costume, he'd never suspect a thing until he saw it." Though to be fair, if that happened, Purity would be the first one to take pictures of him. Just to aid him in never living it down. She stretched again, her cheeks warm despite the cold air, something she should thank the vodka for. "Are you going to show him?"
"It's online. Even if I don't? He'll see it." Whenever Rhiannon thought about, she had trouble keeping a poker face. What were friends for, if not making your life miserable? "Maybe I'll give him the hard copy in a nice frame." Hard copy. For some reason, that sent her brain back to the hilarious, if slightly awkward, memory of trying to draw him accurately in the tights. Exactly how much shading should she give... Yeah.
"Oh god." She shook herself. "Anyway, it's freezing and I'm sort-of starving. You want to walk to the diner?" She thumbed in the general direction of a twenty-four hour greasy spoon, where young women who smelled mildly of vodka and beer wouldn't be out of place. "Waffles!" She walked over and elbowed Purity.
The witch rubbed her face and grabbed up her empty cup. "Waffles sound good." Purity used her shoulder to bump Rhiannon back, turning on wobbly legs, while motioning for the Slayer to follow her. "Actually food in general sounds good." Her stomach made a gurgling sound and she looked down at it, "Quiet you."
Though she did pause to look at her friend, a crooked grin playing across her features, "You can show me that picture on the way out."
Rhiannon grabbed the bottle. There was mischief afoot. "Deal."